Mexico Reborn

Mexico Reborn

Mexico Reborn

Mexico Reborn

Excerpt

I FIRST SAW MEXICO FROM THE DECK OF A WARD LINE STREAMER!

The land that was to be mine for all the rest of my life, barring those uncertainties of fate which make life in any part of the world today fraught with peril, broke upon my vision like an unending Rivera fresco. When seen through the warm, syrupy air, the tiny dock flanked by stiff, arrogant palm trees, the miniature pink and slate-blue houses, roofed in red tile, and the round, bulbous dome of the gold-fretted cathedral, all took on a soft, shimmering radiance as midday approached. Even as I watched, odd details suddenly impinged upon my consciousness, like clear, unexpected notes of music; white- trousered Indians moved silently toward the boat, their bronzed, nude torsos gleaming moistly beneath the pulsating waves of tropic sun; little pointed-eared donkeys with huge crates of vegetables upon their backs pattered over the cobbled streets; from a near-by house the strident voice of a radio throbbed forth the words of a popular danzón which was, with passing years, to become a perpetual reminder of my arrival in Mexico, so many, many times did I hear it; 'Palmeras borrachas de sol (palm trees drunk with sun),' the refrain said; a sun that licked the bright . . .

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